Nan Sherwood's Winter Holidays eBook

“Shut that girl’s mouth!” exclaimed
one man from the front. “Stop that screaming!
There is no danger! The fire is confined to the
box, and that is made of sheet iron. We’re
all right. Don’t crowd!”

The panic had, however, spread too far.

The mob struggled and fought at the main doors.
The police had been summoned; but they could not get
into the building through the main entrance, and the
side exits were toward the rear. Several people
were knocked down and trampled on. A pungent
odor of burning filled the theatre; the crackling
of the flames grew louder and louder.

Walter had his hands full with Linda and Pearl, who
had become likewise panic-stricken. Nan pushed
Grace and Bess back toward the wall.

“Stand right where you are. We mustn’t
get in that crowd. We’ll be killed,”
advised she, holding little Inez close to her.

“Save me! save me, Walter!” wailed Linda.

“I wish somebody would take this girl out of
the way!” growled Walter Mason in much disgust,
and far from gallant.

“Don’t leave me!” shrieked Linda.

People began madly to climb over the seats—­and
over one another—­to reach the side exits.

“How ever will we get out, Nan?” demanded
Bess Harley, with keen faith in her chum.

“Keep still. Let us wait,” urged
Nan.

But at that instant red and yellow flames burst from
the box where the picture projecting machine was housed.
These flames began to lick up the furnishings of the
balcony like so much tinder. Sparks and dense
smoke were thrown off and both settled upon the struggling
people below.

“Oh, Walter! Walter! We shall be burned,”
cried his sister.

The boy had never yet neglected his timid sister’s
cry. He somewhat rudely pushed Linda away and
reached across Nan and Inez to seize Grace’s
hand.

“Pluck up your courage, Sis!” he cried,
his voice rising cheerfully above the turmoil.
“We’ll get out all right.”

“But how?” demanded Bess, in great
anxiety. “Oh! see those sparks fly!”

“I see,” said Nan, trying to speak calmly.

“They’re falling right on those poor people—­do,
do look!” gasped Bess.

There was an open space between the young folks from
the Mason house and the crowd that was wedged into
the exit at the head of the main aisle. Upon
this mob was pouring smoke and sparks. The flames
ate up the bunting with which the balcony rail and
pillars were decorated. The burning cloth floated
down upon the heads of the excited people and threatened
to set the dresses of some afire.

Pearl Graves had actually fainted in her seat.
Linda lay across her cousin, sobbing and groaning.
The rest of their party, whoever they were, had deserted
the two girls.

“What under the sun shall we do, Nan?”
whispered Walter, and Nan read the words on his lips
rather than heard them; for the burning theatre was
by this time a scene of pandemonium.